


Life is mundane (and then there's you)

by veronicassadboi



Series: The Moordale Chronicals [1]
Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, I'll tag more if I ever come to write more of this, Otis actually doing sex therapy stuff, and a protective Nurse Maeve!, because I have angst in mind and fixing of a marriage lull, more Adam and Eric and more of our faves!, more domestic bliss and working through marriage probz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronicassadboi/pseuds/veronicassadboi
Summary: Jean rushes behind him, pulling on his arm in a way that tells him she’s not letting him go without a parting hug. “I know it’s hard…” she starts.“That I’m a sex therapist who has to come to my mother for sex therapy?” he laughs humourlessly.She gives him a darkened look. “Being a man, a father. Providing for your family in all aspects of life.”“It’s not that deep mum,” he says, holding back another groan. “We don’t have sex because life tires us out.”- Or;Otis and Maeve have been married five years, have a baby, and their love life is paying for it.
Relationships: Eric Effiong/Adam Groff, Otis Milburn/Maeve Wiley
Series: The Moordale Chronicals [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596313
Comments: 12
Kudos: 173





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is the first Sex Ed writings I've ever done and I'm loving it, I would really love to commit and do more with this one-shot, but I guess it will come down to people's interest. In short, let me know!

_**Life is mundane (and then there's you)** _

* * *

“So when did you notice the decline in your sexual patterns?”

The question was easy enough to follow. To the point, simple enough to answer. He might have even remembered the exact day if his mind wasn’t so drawn to the new additions to the office’s decor. Several breasts in their most natural form made of clay - red clay, no doubt, due to the colour of them. Six sets all varied in size and shape - he’s surprised she hadn’t spoken about them yet and the acceptance of all shapes and sizes. She always did like to start her sessions with an in depth discussion about body acceptance and positivity.

The formality of it all was unsettling, but the way she tapped her pen on the notepad made the setting feel quite clinical, but that was what he was here for - a somewhat clinical outlook on things - nothing too informal, he wanted a professional opinion. And that was what he was getting when he noticed the scrawl on the notepad spell out;  _ nervous, pondering on answer. _

So, he thought of the answer. “Around May last year…”

“May?” she repeats, writing down the month, raising an eyebrow. “And what made you think you might have had to come for a session with me?”

He scoffs before leaning back in his chair, arms folded because regardless of the fact that he didn’t want to admit that his love life was failing, he didn’t want to have to voice it. To her of all people. “Because I’ve barely had sex in a year, is that what you want to hear?”

Her breath hitches but her exhale is what irritates him more. Always so calm and collected, the look she gives him is sympathetic but he didn’t want sympathy. 

He wasn’t even sure of what he wanted at all. 

“I don’t  _ want _ to hear anything in particular. I want to hear what you feel  _ comfortable _ telling me. A year is a long time… would you consider your sex life healthy before?”

Was there a simpler way of saying that they didn’t fuck like bunnies, but they made love frequently enough… There was no one who could read his body quite like his wife, and he likes to think he gives her the same amount of attention, but there was a lingering barrier these days. She was right, a year  _ was _ a long time. “Well, yeah,” he says with his cheeks reddening and palms beginning to sweat. “We always did it.” 

For obvious reasons, he feels like a kid all over again. Like she was prying into things that he didn’t want her to. Like there were no such thing as boundaries or privacy. Like she’s celebrating his sexuality and digging in deeper for information, but that was what he signed up for when he asked for a session. He came to her, and he needed to remember that. “Do you think there was a change in your marriage to kickstart this lull?”

Her eyes are kind this time, and he thinks she knows exactly what he’s about to say. She knows him better than he knows himself, of that he’s certain. He almost knows he doesn’t have to say anything out loud for her to be able to tell. Reason number one of why he regrets the session. 

There’s a level of guilt he feels, no new dad wants to say out loud that the fact they’ve had a child is the reason why he and his wife are going through a lapse in their sex life. The days are long, the nights are longer with a child but still, he feels like maybe it’s something that he’s done wrong. Which is hard, because out of all the things in his marriage that he might not understand, his wife and their love both in bed and in life, was something he was sure he understood wholeheartedly. “When we had the baby, it went downhill.”

“Oh? And how do you think she feels?”

“Tired.”

“Of course she’s tired, she’s raising a baby…”

“ _ We’re _ raising a baby,” he replies with a roll of his eyes. 

“But I’m sure you understand she’s doing a lot more with the baby, don’t you?”

In that response, he knows she’s not being a therapist. She’s  _ parenting _ . Being raised in a single parent household by your mother tends to ensure that one should never question the love and devotion of a mother. Of a  _ woman _ . The sacrifices and battles. Again, he’s a child and the look she gives him almost shoots daggers unless he comes up with a decent comeback. “Of course I do!” he argues. 

She’s pleased with his answer, a small smile works its way onto her lips. “Let’s quickly go over some of the things she does as a new mother…” 

“Well,” he starts, all of a sudden forgetting every single thing his wife does from the sheer pressure of the question. “She cooks dinner every night, she gets Daniel ready for daycare, she feeds him, she goes to work, she comes home and tidies and gets lunches ready for work the next day… and repeat.”

“And have you ever told her that you appreciate her for that?”

He ponders just how wrong it would be to storm out of the session. “I didn’t realise you were a counsellor as well,” he mumbles. 

“I’m whatever you need me to be, just as she is for your household and marriage. Can you see why she might be too tired? You have a one year old son, things like this happen.” 

“I love her with my entire heart,” he says in a sigh, closing his eyes before dropping his head into his hands. Wishing that he could run upstairs to his room just as he did when he was a kid. “It’s not even about the lack of sex, I wonder if she’s falling out of love with me.” 

“Are you feeling this way perhaps because you find all of her attention is diverted to Daniel?”

The question sits heavily in air that feels like it’s suffocating him. He didn’t want to say he finds his wifes interest in him is diminishing because of their child, but there was a truth to it. “Yes?”

“A very natural thing to happen when a family introduces a child into the mix.”

“How do I fix it?”

“You need to find yourselves amongst the chaos of a new family. You need to find your spark again.”

“How?!” he almost begs, teeth grinding together from the desperation in his tone. Embarrassment creeping up his neck. 

Again, she looks at him with worry and kindness mixed in one that makes him lean back further in his chair. “Concentrate on making her feel loved, Otis. Maeve is a tough girl, but even the tough ones need to know they have someone to fall back on. Relieve the pressure, focus on showing her your love. You’ve got a big heart, and I know you know how to use it - the rest will fall into place.” 

Otis’s phone lights up with an alarm, a reminder he has his own session to conduct in less than an hour. “Thanks mum,” he grumbles, collecting his bag by his feet. “Maeve will bring Daniel over later tonight…” he says, rushing towards the door. 

Jean rushes behind him, pulling on his arm in a way that tells him she’s not letting him go without a parting hug. “I know it’s hard…” she starts. 

“That I’m a sex therapist who has to come to my mother for sex therapy?” he laughs humourlessly. 

She gives him a darkened look. “Being a man, a father. Providing for your family in all aspects of life.” 

“It’s not that deep mum,” he says, holding back another groan. “We don’t have sex because life tires us out.” 

“It is exactly that deep, Otis, and you know it. Life is a trivial thing and you and Maeve are still so young, you have a lot to figure out. Sex included.” 

He kisses his mother on the cheek before walking out of her home. At times like these, he wishes he was sixteen again so he could escape the trivial problems of everyday life. 

He always thought he had sex figured out. Even when he hadn’t even had sex, he still understood it. What was included, the feelings involved, the dynamics in relationships versus sexual attraction. 

Sixteen year old him had it all under control, he had Maeve by his side and they worked through feelings and heart and soul together. 

But why was it at twenty-six did things seem more daunting than ever? 

* * *

“You went to your mum for sex advice? Please never make these kinds of decisions without me, man. This is why I tell you, you don’t have a brain!”

Eric continues to pester Otis and Adam gives him a look as to tell him to let Eric finish up his rant before saying another word. When Eric finally lets it go, Otis speaks. “She’s a professional.” 

“She’s your mother, how do you think Maeve would like it knowing you were in there talking about how perfectly your love stick fits in her box?!”

“Maybe it doesn’t and that’s why he had to talk to his mum?” Adam says quietly, raising his shoulders. 

Eric gives his boyfriend an incredulous look. “And whose side are you on?”

Adam shrugs again. “Otis’s? Maeve’s? Not yours.” 

“Traitor.”

“It’s not your problem,” Adam argues. 

“It is actually my problem when my best mate’s having problems with his wife. I’ve been the narrator of this love story and it’s messing with my damn narrative… do you know how hard this is for me?”

This time, Eric picks a fight with Adam and Otis appreciates Adam for taking the heat off him, being able to enjoy his Earl Grey in the comfort of listening to the two of them argue about his sex life and marriage was easier than having to talk about it himself. 

“Maybe you should spend less time talking about this shit with me, Eric and your mum and more time talking about it with your wife.”

Eric’s face is covered in shock. “And then we miss out on the drama? No thank you.” 

“You’re both no help.”

“And that’s why you’re the sex therapist and we’re not,” Eric says. 

Adam strokes his chin, looking up the ceiling as if conjuring up some grand idea. “You know what will really get her going?”

“What?” Otis asks. 

“If you do a sexy dance.”

He can’t wait to get out of this house. 

* * *

She was covered in baby food, but that was okay. Yesterday she was covered in some fifteen year old kid’s vomit which was worse, but also okay. She loves her job and he loves her no matter what she’s covered in. And she’s always so beautiful, even if covered in baby food or some strangers vomit. He loves her smile and her slightly pessimistic outlook on life. That was what he loved when he asked her to marry him. The fact that she said yes was enough to tell him that maybe she loved something about him too. 

He was dressed and ready to go, but as she walked through the door after dropping Daniel off at his mum’s, he couldn’t help but feel guilty that he was ready to leave and she was still covered in baby food and in her work clothes. She drops a bag of something on the kitchen bench. “Pregnancy tests,” she explains as he eyes the bag. “One hundred of the fuckers.” 

He doesn’t ask questions about them, anything to do with her work was sort of off limits as he knows she’s paid for them herself with their holiday money. Funding from the school was bullshit - her own words - and she’ll forever take sexual health seriously, even if it means it’s out of their own pockets. Just another thing he loves about Maeve Milburn. She was always one to help others first. Especially those who were following a similar path to hers, she was always a sucker for helping others. That was how they met in the first place, even if she says it wasn’t that sentimental, but Otis knows it was. 

The dinner reservation was for six, six-fifteen was fast approaching yet her slow, tired steps through the kitchen were telling him that maybe she wouldn’t be ready until closer to seven. Maeve stands by the sink, washing her hands and he follows behind her, moving his hands along her hips, wrapping her up in his embrace. 

It’s the moments like these where he remembers exactly how much he loves her. In the silence, because silence was Maeve’s best friend, even if sometimes it was Otis’s undoing - even after so many years, he found her sometimes a little hard to read emotionally. But here she was, raw and exposed. Just them two in their most natural form. Tears prickle his eyes a little as he rests his head on her shoulder. “I love you,” he mumbles against her neck. 

She inhales and exhales loudly. “I know it’s our anniversary and going out to the chippy is sort of our thing, but I really can’t be bothered tonight. Not when your mum has Daniel for the entire night.” 

Rituals and traditions was always something Otis took seriously, maybe because that was what his whole childhood with his mum was built on but he tries hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice. “That’s okay.” 

“Happy anniversary, Otis,” she whispers, spinning in his arms to face him before wrapping her own arms around his neck and reaching up for a kiss. 

When he concentrates, he wonders if he can feel the distance in the kiss or if he was focusing too much on something that wasn’t there. “Happy anniversary, Maeve,” he says against her lips. 

She pulls away, concern etched with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

Honesty was something they both brought to their relationship. Something they both promised they’d always have, but why was it so hard to voice his worries? When she’s wrapped up in his arms and so close to his heart, why was it so hard to look her in the eye and tell her the truth? “Do you feel like we’re growing apart?”

Maeve sighs, stepping back against the kitchen counter and pulling her arms up across her chest. “We’re both just so tired, Otis.” 

“Of what, though?” he asks. “Is it actually sleep we need? Or is it more than that?”

“I mean, I  _ am _ sleep deprived,” she chuckles softly. “But I think we’re just not…”

She doesn’t even need to finish for him to understand. “We’re flat.”

“What should we do?” she asks, a sense of relief in the air. The relief of finally talking about it after tiptoeing around it for so long. “I feel like we should know what to do.”

He laughs too, shrugging before putting his hands in his pockets. “We should know, it’s our thing - we fix these kinds of problems all the time and we don’t even know what to do.”

“We know what to do,” she replies with a smile. “We just need to… get our groove back.”

“Groove?” he repeats, cocking an eyebrow.

“I know, it didn’t sound as lame in my head as when I said it out loud. Shoot me.” 

Otis’s face turns serious, his heart seems to run fast, and it always has since he met her, but even now, in the home they share and their marriage facing the most painful thing it has so far, she still makes his heart beat so hard, it might come out of his chest. “You know I love you, right?”

She rolls her eyes, moving closer to lay her head on his chest. “Don’t start.”

“You know though, right?”

“Of course, and I love you,” she groans. 

He’ll take it. With Maeve’s ever existing bluntness and sharp edges, her groan was the equivalent of a love ballad. “So, our groove?” he presses, a smirk playing on his lips as he kisses the top of her head. 

She slaps him lightly on the arm before pulling away again to look at him. “Say groove one more time and I’ll kick you in the balls.”

“What do you suggest we do to get things going again? Allocate more time to each other?”

“That sounds good. What else?” she asks, hands on her hips. 

Otis chuckles. “I could do a sexy dance…” he teases, Adam’s suggestion had to be put forward - just so he can tell him.

Maeve’s lips curl into a smile. “I’ll get the music, you gotta strip… slowly…”

Otis’s cheeks blush, but he gets the jacket off while Maeve works on his belt with his lip between her teeth. 


	2. Not a chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a chapter but I have built off this fic in the form of a whole new, multi chapter fic called “in a house with big windows” - check it out if you like, or, don’t.

Not a chapter but I have built off this fic in the form of a whole new, multi chapter fic called “in a house with big windows” - check it out if you like, or, don’t. 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I hope all enjoyed a domestic, futuristic Maeve and Otis (motis?) Do let me know if you want more and if you have anything in particular you'd like to see in their marriage problems! I'm open to all ideas at this point!


End file.
